


Blowjob

by HashtagHusky



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Songfic, extremely vague smut, i'll write a part two if people really want it?, it's a mystery oooo, mention of sex but not like graphic y'know, these boys gotta talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashtagHusky/pseuds/HashtagHusky
Summary: Newt knocked on Thomas’s door, shifting awkwardly in the hallway. It was a nervous habit, he knew he could come into the apartment whenever he wanted to. But still. It was polite. Thomas had texted him for the first time all week, a simple ‘hey, come over?’. They both knew what it really meant. It wasn’t just an innocent Friday night visit between two bros. No, that wasn’t complex enough to be Newt and Thomas.





	Blowjob

**Author's Note:**

> Hey,,, this is my first maze runner fic, it's based off of Blowjob by E^ST and it would be good to listen to it while reading, that's what i did while writing it? i hope you like this?

_We both know why I’m here_

Newt knocked on Thomas’s door, shifting awkwardly in the hallway. It was a nervous habit, he knew he could come into the apartment whenever he wanted to. But still. It was polite. Thomas had texted him for the first time all week, a simple ‘hey, come over?’. They both knew what it really meant. It wasn’t just an innocent Friday night visit between two bros. No, that wasn’t complex enough to be Newt and Thomas.

_You never liked Friday nights on your own_

Thomas opened the door, looking weary and worn out. Newt knew he’d been busy with work, but bloody hell. Dark circles shaded his eyes, his skin was pale, and a still, stale smell drifted from inside the flat, indicating how little time he’d spent home during the week. Upon seeing Newt, however, Thomas’s face cleared a little, and he grabbed Newt’s arm to pull him inside.

_Suppose I volunteered_

Newt liked it. It wasn’t much, it wasn’t enough, but it was all Newt was going to get. And he was damn well there for it. Thomas’s girlfriend had dumped him (a blue-eyed beauty named Teresa who remained firm friends with Thomas despite the nasty fallout from their breakup) and he was mourning the loss with a bottle of vodka. Like any good friend, Newt sat with him on the cracked leather couch while Thomas got wasted out of his mind. Newt sat there, his arms around the younger boy, while Thomas cried his eyes out. Newt sat there, back resting against the wall, while Thomas leaned into the blonde, their mouths colliding messily. Newt sat there afterwards, sore and wondering if Thomas would remember. Newt would. Because unlike Thomas, he’d been completely sober. It became something of a routine. One of them would have a bad day, bad week, bad whatever, and the other would comfort them with rough kisses and however much sex was necessary. 

And Newt had come. He knew what the night would entail, and he was okay with it.

_I always knew better than to stay at home_

Newt was there. Whenever Thomas wanted it, needed it, he’d come, like a dog being called to his master. Because he was weak, and he wanted it. He _needed it_. Because while Newt knelt on his knees in front of the younger boy, he could pretend that Thomas was his. Because that’s what lovers do, right?

Thomas pulled Newt inside, shutting the door softly behind them. The blonde boy was backed up against a wall, and for a moment, he could feel Thomas’s breath against his mouth, gently, oh so gently, before he mashed their mouths together, running his tongue over the other boy’s bitten lips and pushing his cold hands up underneath Newt’s shirt. People could preach all versions of paradise, but this was Newt’s heaven. This was his safe haven. And fucking hell, it was more blissful than the salvation of any god. 

 

_I could've been anyone, I happened to be around  
I'm just anyone, and you couldn't keep it down, couldn't keep it down_

Newt knew he wasn’t special. Newt knew Thomas didn’t love him. They were as close as two best friends could be in their situation. But Newt knew that had it been someone else in his position, Thomas would’ve tried the same thing. Minho, Aris, Brenda, anyone. They would’ve stopped him gently, covered him with a blanket and left him an aspirin. But no. Newt gave him exactly what Thomas wanted.   
Did that make him a good friend?   
Or a bad one?  
At this point, Newt couldn’t care less.

Both their shirts were off now. Thomas was acting so needy. So desperate. Newt did what he always did, which was swirl his tongue around, searching for the familiar amber tint of whisky in the other’s mouth, the one he knew he’d find, before diving toward Thomas’s neck. The blunt flavour of alcohol was distant, but there.   
It was always there.

_Just enough, not too much, we don't talk_

It was stupid. So, so, stupid. They danced around each other, around what had happened each night. Newt never slept over, never stayed. Thomas wouldn’t want to see him the next day with sex-ruffled hair and hickies down his chest. They’d never talked about it, not once, despite how caring Thomas was about everything else in Newt’s life. Thomas would help him hide a body if he only asked. They knew everything about each other, and more. Almost. Thomas wouldn’t know how Newt wanted to curl up with him afterwards, how he wanted to lean over to kiss him day to day, how he wanted to call Thomas his. Because that would ruin the illusion of friends with benefits, mindless sex, meaningless shagging. And Newt didn’t want that if it meant they’d stop.

Somehow they’d spilt the bottle of whisky on the coffee table, but they were both long past caring. They’d clean it up later. Or more like Newt would, caring too much to leave it.

_‘Cause you just need a blowjob_

Newt was on his knees now. They’d switched positions, Thomas’s back against the wall, his dick in Newt’s mouth. He felt Thomas relax, grow less tense with each minute, each movement, his hand in Newt’s hair, making the most amazing sounds. Newt only wished Thomas needed it the way he did.

_Looking at you, looking at us  
Why are we so damn hard to love?_

Newt wondered, a lot actually, what would happen should one of them get a partner. Would it stop? Would they talk about it? Would it be cheating? Newt silently thanked the gods that they were both so busy. No time for a S/O when you’re working 14 hours a day at a hospital. Newt was lucky to have Thomas as a friend, let alone anything else. The brunette could be bratty, and stubborn, and downright oblivious, but he cared so bloody much about all of his friends. 

Newt lay on his back, clutching the sheets while Thomas entered him, the brunette adjusting the brit’s leg slightly to stop it from aching. They were so used to each other, so familiar. Loving? Newt thought, letting the thought slip from his grasp as Thomas hit that spot, making him shiver and gasp, stars filling his vision. It might’ve been hot, sweaty and meaningless, but it was also perfect.

_Really just need  
Just need your open arms_

It was over, and Newt was cold again. Thomas had curled up on one side of the bed without saying anything, so Newt took it as his cue to leave. Slowly, he left the bed, bringing his clothes into the living room to get changed there. Tomorrow night, they’d be sitting here and laughing, surrounded by friends and too much pizza, a stark contrast to the cold, grey, darkness of the flat. Wincing slightly as he put on his jeans, Newt glanced towards Thomas’s room. The light was off, and it was quiet. Asleep. Content. Newt envied him. The spilled bottle of whisky lay, dripping all over the glass coffee table. Newt wants to think something like ‘Fuck it, that’s his problem’. But he can’t. So he creeps into the kitchen, takes some paper towels, and cleans it up. One day, Newt would get angry. Want even more. More than he should. He was lucky to get as much of Thomas as he already did. So he left, closing the door behind him, and rubbing his eyes. Then he went back home, to his flat. It somehow felt even emptier than Thomas’s.

_And you just need a blowjob._

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo yeah this is it? if people really want i can write a part two with more dialogue but i'm not too sure? i hope you liked it and it was okay :) comments really make me happy even if it's just a smiley face. i also didn't have a beta so please let me know if there are any mistakes? have a snazzy day!


End file.
